


Define Slime

by tresa_cho



Category: Hardy Boys - Franklin W. Dixon, Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Cult of Cthulhu, Drama, Gen, M/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:44:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tresa_cho/pseuds/tresa_cho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam are drawn to a small town in Pennsylvania where bodies are turning up in a guy's back yard. Thing is, he has a rock solid alibi, so he didn't do it. They team up with the world's greatest boy detectives, who are all grown up in the best possible way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to everyone who suffered through this at chat, and to Evening_Bat for doing a fantastic beta job. All mistakes are mine.

“So let me get this straight.” Dean pushed his baby's door open and stood for a moment, leaning against her. “Ten half-decomposed bodies have turned up in this guy's yard in the last month and he didn't do it?”

“So he claims,” Sam said, climbing out of his side of the car. He slammed the door and leaned against her roof. “He has several alibis for both the disappearances and the bodies turning up. The police held him but couldn't link him to anything other than a drop site for the bodies. They let him come back and he's under watch.”

“By the FBI?” Dean nodded to a parked car in front of the building. He couldn't see anyone inside. “What's the plan?”

“Well, I was hoping our FBI badges would get us in, but that might prove difficult if the actual FBI is here,” Sam said. “Local fuzz?”

“Not if the FBI confiscated the investigation. What about back up?” Dean suggested.

“What if they didn't call for back up?” Sam threw out.

“Headquarters sent us,” Dean said. Sam nodded.

“Okay. We'll go with that.”

“Let's go.” Dean pushed away from the car and crossed the street at a quick trot. Sam followed, and caught up with him on the front steps of the house. Dean tugged the bell chain and they waited.

The man who opened the door wore a mesh FBI-issue jacket over jeans and a sharp, pressed polo shirt. His dark brown hair was slicked back from his face and he glanced between them, narrowing his eyes.

“Can I help you?” the man asked. He shifted in the doorway, and Dean took note of his sidearm.

Dean and Sam held up their badges. “Jason Rickman and Alan Bateman. Back up.”

The man mirrored their action. “Frank Hardy. I'm here with my partner, Joe. Relief isn't due for another hour.”

Dean scoffed and shot a glance at Sam, who gave a slight shrug. Behind Frank's broad shoulders, Dean saw another man enter the hall.

“What's going on out there?” he called.

“Excuse me,” Dean said over Frank's shoulders. “Are you the home owner?”

“Yeah, that's me. What do you want? Your buddies are already giving me the run around,” the man said, not moving from his position.

“Would you mind allowing us into the house?” Dean asked. “We're here to relieve this shift.”

“Whoa, hold on there,” Frank said, holding up his hand in warning. Dean couldn't place his accent. It wasn't quite New Jersey, but it wasn't New York City either. “Step outside, please.”

Dean and Sam let themselves be backed off the porch and into the front yard. Frank stood with his arms crossed over his chest and glared at them. “What exactly are you trying to pull, here? This is a federal investigation. Those are impressive badges, but they're fake.”

“Frank, what the hell are you doing out here?” Another man trotted out to them, his FBI jacket trailing over his shoulder. “Rick kicked me out.”

“These two are impersonating officers of the law,” Frank said. “Look, I'm taking you in. I was going to let you off with a warning but you're being stubborn-”

“Cool, let me see,” the other man said, holding out his hand. Sam and Dean reluctantly turned over their flimsy credentials for inspection. The man came to the same conclusion Frank did. “Fake. Good ones, but fake. Impressive. How did you make these? Who are you?”

“Jason Rickman and-” Dean started.

“Alan Bateman,” Sam cut him off quickly. “And we heard there were mysterious deaths in the area. We just want to ask the home owner some questions about the bodies turning up in his yard.”

“Well you're not going to get much out of him,” the man said.

“Joe,” Frank said swiftly.

“They already know about it,” Joe said, waving at Sam and Dean. “What have you heard?”

“Half-decomposed bodies are turning up in this guy's yard and he's got a rock solid alibi for all the incidents. It's clearly a drop site. The decomposition seems to be the result of some sort of chemical burn,” Sam said, ignoring Dean's glare. Joe exchanged a look with Frank.

“No,” Frank said. “Absolutely not. We're not kids anymore, Joe, we can't just let strangers into an investigation-”

“This may be something they have experience with,” Joe argued. “You saw how fast the cops ran from this place when we pulled up. There's something else going on here than a serial murderer. Why else would the feds be interested in it?”

“Not for nothing, but you are a fed,” Dean pointed out. Joe scowled at him.

“I can still arrest you,” he threatened, jerking a finger in Dean's direction.

“Coercing for information,” Frank muttered in Joe's ear. Joe let out a snort but fell silent. Frank looked back at the house. “You're going to keep trying, with or without our permission, right?”

“Right in one,” Dean said. This Frank Hardy person was bright. He didn't seem like a bad guy.

“Then I'd rather have you where we can see you,” Frank decided. “If you endanger this investigation in any way, I will have you in the back of my car so fast you won't get a chance to say 'innocent'.”

“Kinky,” Dean said. Sam punched him in the arm. Dean winced and rubbed the spot. He didn't miss the slight flush colouring Frank's cheeks as he turned back towards the house.

“Come on,” he said.

Frank led them all into the house, and the home owner, a slighter, paler specimen of man stood in the kitchen shifting his eyes along all of them.

“Rick, this is our back up,” Frank said. “Jason Rickman and Alan Bateman.”

“More feds?” the man asked. “You guys haven't strip searched me enough?”

“You seem pretty spunky for a guy who's had bodies pop up in his yard,” Dean commented. He glanced around the kitchen. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“Yeah, well, I didn't kill them,” Rick, said. “And I didn't do... whatever to their bodies. I called the cops every single time I found one. Would a guilty person do that? I don't think so. And I haven't run. I just want this to stop happening.”

“Have you been talking to any strange people recently?” Sam asked. Frank and Joe watched him with critical expressions. Probably hoping he'd be able to get something out of Rick that they had failed to.

Dean slipped away from Sam's investigation to take a closer look at the kitchen. Well aware of Frank's eyes on the back of his head, he casually examined the cabinets, looking at the wood for markings of any kind. There was nothing he could see in his cursory search. He'd have to get access to the rest of the house.

“Mind if I use your bathroom?” Dean asked.

Rick nodded absently, waving to the stairs. Perfect.

He started towards the stairs, and groaned when he heard Frank following him. “I'm not going to steal anything,” he said when they reached the top of the stairs.

“Right,” Frank said. He waited for Dean to make his move, eyes hard.

Dean rolled his eyes and carefully opened the first door. A man obviously occupied the master bedroom behind it. Dean carefully stepped over piles of clothing on the floor and took in the articles on the desk by the window. Nothing obviously supernatural. No hint of witchcraft. They usually left a little something lying around while they worked. It was unavoidable when they needed so many ingredients in their spells.

“What are you looking for?” Frank asked in a low voice.

“Anything that isn't normal,” Dean said. “A stash of salt in the bedroom. A branch of willow over the bathroom threshold. Something that most people wouldn't use as atmospheric decoration.”

“You think he's a witch?” Frank asked.

That stopped Dean in his tracks. He straightened and stared at Frank.


	2. Chapter 2

“Come on, you couldn't think I'd possibly be that stupid, do you?” Frank leaned against the door jamb, arms over his chest again. “I'm aware there's more to this planet than people can perceive. I've read things.”

“Yeah, what kind of things?” Dean resumed his search, shaking off his momentary stun to get down on his hands and knees and look under the bed. Which was clean.

“Ghosts. Witches.” Frank's shoes appeared on the other side of the bed, and when Dean stood up, Frank met his eyes. “You're one of them, aren't you. A hunter?”

Dean snorted. “That's crazy talk. You think someone like me could be a... a hunter or whatever?”

“Well, excuse me for deducing from your fake badges and peculiar muscle tone that you're not ordinary criminals.”

“My muscle- What? How do you even see that under this suit?” Dean boggled.

“You carry yourselves like militia men. Untrained but used to combat,” Frank said, gesturing to Dean. “I'd guess someone like your father taught you, but you've never been in the military yourself. This isn't the first time I've run into hunters. There was a case up north a bit of here that Joe and I were set on. This man, with a fake cop badge, crossed paths with us a few times. I didn't realise it at the time, but he cracked the case for us and was gone that same day.”

“Yeah, we're hunters,” Dean said after he had steadied himself. “What are you going to do about it?”

“You think we're dealing with something not human?” Frank asked. His jacket crinkled annoyingly in the quiet. Dean wished he would just take it off. It was warm enough in here.

“Maybe. It's too early to tell,” Dean said. “There's nothing in here. I'm going to the bathroom.”

He pushed past Frank into the hall. Frank closed the door quietly behind them. Dean could hear Sam still giving Rick the routine below them, and he quickly made his way to the bathroom.

It was a typical man's bathroom. A few razor blades here and there, soap, shaving cream, shampoo... The cabinets beneath the sink were sparsely filled, a few chemicals but nothing out of the ordinary. Dean left the bathroom empty handed and frustrated.

He and Frank made their way downstairs. Sam was just wrapping up, and Dean gave him the signal for checking the scene. Sam glanced over Rick's shoulder. “And that's where the bodies were found?”

“Like I told every single cop that walked through that door, yes,” Rick said. “Go out again if you want, but you won't find anything they haven't.”

Dean pushed open the door to the yard and stepped onto wet grass. He grimaced as mud squelched under his heel, and wished he had worn his boots. Rick stayed behind as they walked around the yard. It was fenced in by one of those old-school, high wooden fences. It was tall enough to guarantee a body hadn't been thrown into the yard. They hadn't come from that direction. Dean moved to the single door in the fencing and jiggled it, testing the lock. It was a solid bolt, requiring a key to turn. He crouched and eyed the lock. No evidence of tampering.

If they hadn't come through the door, and they hadn't come over the fence... where had the bodies come from?

“Jason,” Sam called.

Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets and made his way to Sam's side. “What did you find?”

“When was the last time it rained here?” Sam asked. Dean wrinkled his nose and glanced at the Hardy boys.

“Last week, I think,” Joe supplied.

“Why is the ground still wet?” Sam asked. He was crouched, carefully not kneeling in the grass. Dean gingerly lifted a foot, suddenly horrified to think about what he was standing in.

“Rick, do you have a sprinkler system?” Frank called into the house.

“No,” Rick answered.

Sam pressed his fingers into the dirt and held them close to his face, rubbing thumb and forefinger together. “Slimy,” he said. “Do we have a sample bag?”

Dean and Joe both grabbed one from their pockets, and Sam hesitated before accepting Dean's. He worked a handful of dirt and muck into the bag and handed it to Dean before wiping his hands off. Dean sealed it shut and tucked it into one of his pockets. The way Frank stared at him unnerved him slightly, and he just wanted to get this job over with.

Their shoes were covered in muck from the trek back to the house. Slime and mud stuck to their soles, and they scraped their shoes clean as best they could before entering.

“We're going to analyse the soil samples and get back to you,” Sam said. “There might be something there that we can get a lead on.”

“We're going with you,” Frank said. Dean glared at him.

“No need. We can report back to you,” he said.

“Our shift ends soon anyway,” Frank pointed out. “And I'm sure that our hotel is much nicer than yours.”

“A cardboard box would be nicer than ours,” Sam muttered.

Dean elbowed him.

The doorbell rang, and Frank nodded towards it. “There's our relief.”

Frank got them past the actual FBI agents and out to their cars. He paused with one hand on the door handle to their government issued car. “Are you riding with us?”

“No way in hell am I leaving my baby alone overnight,” Dean said. “And you're not riding with us.”

“I'll go with Frank and Joe can go with you,” Sam said. “We'll meet you at the hotel.”

“Fine,” Dean said tightly. He watched Sam step around Frank's car and sit down, closing the door. Frank drove off without a backwards glance, leaving Dean with Joe.

They climbed into the car and Dean got her purring.

“This is a sweet ride,” Joe said.

“Have some respect,” Dean cautioned as he pulled onto the road. “She's a lady.”

“Sorry,” Joe said, earnestly. He reverently ran his hands along her dash and up the side paneling, fondling the leather and wood. “Beautiful.”

Maybe these guys weren't so bad after all.

Joe led him to a moderately priced hotel, much better than the one he and Sam were staying in, and they rejoined Frank and Sam.

“This isn't normal liquid,” Sam said, tilting the small bag of goo he had managed to scoop up from the yard. It shifted lazily, viscous and almost clear when held up to the light. “It looks like some sort of mucus.”

“Gross,” Dean said in tandem with Joe. He and Joe exchanged a scowl, irritated at their similarity of thought. “Can you find out what it's made of?”

“If I had a chemistry set and a couple of hours, probably,” Sam said.

“We have access to a local crime lab,” Frank said. “We should be able to get you two in.”

Sam glanced at Dean in alarm.

“Okay.” Dean folded his arms over his chest. “What's going on?”

“Pardon?” Frank tilted his head slightly.

“Not that we don't appreciate being, not arrested,” Sam said, “But we sort of took over your investigation. I thought the FBI was, like, the king of taking over investigations.”

“You're hunters,” Frank said, as if it were obvious. Sam scowled at Dean.

“I didn't tell him, he figured it out himself,” Dean said defensively. “What does being hunters have to do with anything?”

“You think there's something supernatural going on here, and from what we've seen it's nearly impossible for a human to be pulling off these disappearances. We'd need your help anyway. I prefer not to end up dead.” Frank looked between them, and sighed in frustration. “Look, the hunter that helped us, upstate? His name was John Winchester, does that mean anything to you? You've heard of him, right?”

Dean stilled, and Frank continued on, having found a button to press hard on.

“He knew what he was talking about and he helped us. If you guys know something that's going on here, we'd appreciate the assistance,” Frank said.

“Okay,” Dean said.

“De- Jason,” Sam said.

“It's okay, Sam,” Dean said. Frank didn't flinch at the use of Sam's real name. “He knew Dad.”

“You name's not Jason, then,” Joe said, directed at Dean. “And you dad was that guy?”

“I'm Dean Winchester,” Dean said. “This is my brother, Sam. We're searching for our dad. If you have any information on him, we'd appreciate it.”

Joe smirked. “Seems like we could both benefit from a partnership, then.”

“If that's what you want to call it,” Dean said stiffly.

Dean didn't want to turn and see concern on Sam's face. If this Frank guy had a run in with Dad, and had survived to tell the tale, he had to be something.

Dean stalked over to one of the beds and threw himself onto it, watching Frank as he pulled a laptop out of his bag. “Joe, why don't you take Sam to the crime lab and get started on the evidence analysis? I'll stay here and try to find a connection between the victims.”

“Right. Come on, kid,” Joe said, looking up at Sam. Sam had the good nature to chuckle, and Dean really had nothing to say. His moose of a brother sort of dwarfed everyone. They left, and the room fell quiet save Frank's tapping on the computer.

“You not expecting me to help you, right?” Dean asked. “Because the whole, research thing... That's Sam's shindig. I'm more of a shoot first, ask questions later guy.”

Frank smiled, glancing at him briefly before turning back to his screen. “I figured. But your insight might be what we need. Let me lay out the victims for you.”

Frank stood and grabbed a handful of photographs from his bag. He shifted to the bed and dropped the pile on the duvet. Dean slid his hand over them, separating them so that he could take a look at all the faces.

“What do they have in common?” Dean asked. 

“Nothing,” Frank said. “Absolutely nothing. Different ages, races, gender, religion, political affiliation... We've run through everything we can think of and we've come up with nothing. There's just no pattern here that we see.”

“Football team?” Dean suggested.

Frank shook his head.

“This one was a Cowboys fan, and this one was an Eagles. It's like they didn't even live in the same town.” He sighed and ran a hand through his slicked back hair, forcing a few strands upright. “We have to figure out what's going on before more people disappear. Ten is too many.”

“One is too many,” Dean said under his breath. Frank hummed in solemn agreement over him, and Dean picked up one of the images. He turned it over in his fingers, trying to see something the Hardy boys might have missed. “She worked at the Hooters?”

“Have a little respect for the dead,” Frank said, his voice taking on a hostile tinge.

Dean lifted his eyes, and a chill settled between them.

“I meant the Hooters is near that construction yard where this guy worked.” Dean held up another picture. “Which is near the McDonald's.” He held up another one. “Any of the other vics work near the Hooters?”

Frank stood over the bed, flipping through his case notes. He hummed, nodding. “Yeah. They did. We should check this out.”

Dean hopped up. “I'll drive.”

According to the public records, the shopping centre was expanding into the woods behind it, and the construction site was large and sprawling. Frank briefed him on the ride over, making not one comment about his baby's impeccable condition. Dean found himself liking the other brother more and more. Dean parked along the side of the building, where both the shopping centre and the construction site were in view.

“We should split up,” Dean said, already moving towards the construction site.

“I don't know if that's a good idea,” Frank said behind him.

Dean groaned, and Frank caught up with him in several quick strides. Damn his height.

“If someone is making people disappear, we need to be on our guard.”

The construction site was bustling with activity, with workers in hard hats moving around through the dirt. Heavy machinery whined around the skeleton of a two story building, doing heavy lifting and shoveling dirt and gravel.

“One of these things is not like the other,” Dean said under his breath. Frank followed his gaze and they watched as an older man in pressed pants and a polo make his way across the site. He held no clipboard, wore no hardhat, and his glasses were so thick Dean was almost positive he was blind behind them. “What's Professor Plum doing here?”

“Let's go find out,” Frank said. He pushed through the gate leading into the yard and made his way towards the man. “Excuse me, sir. Can I just have a moment of your time?”

He took one look at Frank's jacket and turned tail, breaking into a run. Dean bolted after him with a curse, Frank keeping pace behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

The man ran right for the skeleton of the two story building, ducking out of the sunlight into the splotched shadows of the scaffolding. Dean leapt after him, nearly colliding with a workman at the entrance. He ignored the shouting after him and kept his eyes on the target. The man's flying coattails.

He skidded around a corner and saw the man standing in front of a sheer wall. Panting, Dean let himself slow his approach. Professor Plum wasn't going anywhere. He was stuck at a dead end of the construction site, walled in on both sides with nothing but concrete and dangling wire around.

“What's with the running?” Dean asked when he caught his breath. The man didn't answer him, his eyes flicking to the side behind his thick lenses. “We just want to know- _shit_!”

The man jumped. He grasped a wire that was hanging down and started to pull himself up to the second floor.

Dean found himself rearranging his estimation of the geek. He had hidden muscle, apparently. The man swung once and got himself onto the second floor, and took off before Dean could even reach the wire.

“Dean!”

Dean ignored Frank and took off after the man once more, hopping over a gaping hole in the floor. There were less workers on this floor, but many more pitfalls. Dean ducked hanging wiring and propped up beams as he ran. He jumped through a beam of sunlight, blinding him briefly with a direct ray of light to the eyes, and his foot slipped. He winced and slowed, throwing a hand up. Frank passed him in their pursuit.

A swell of nausea rose in him suddenly, and Dean staggered out of the light, blinking back spots. His head felt like it was in a vice, and he could barely get his feet under him. Vertigo struck him violently and he lost his balance. He hit the ground hard, scratching for something solid to hold onto.

His fingers scraped against ground as the building started to shake. Shouts rose up from the workers on the ground.

“Earthquake!”

“Earthquake? We're in fucking Pennsylvania,” Dean said, pushing himself to his feet. He looked up just in time to see Frank lose his footing and go over the edge of the unfinished building. “Frank!”

Dean scrambled to the edge and reached down. Frank had managed to catch hold of a rope, which he was twisting around his wrist for security. Blinking, Dean leaned down and grasped the rope. A one story fall wouldn't kill him, but falling into the haphazard pile of rebar below them would be deadly.

“Hang on,” Dean said, gritting his teeth. He slowly pulled Frank up, stretching out a hand when he was within reach. Frank swung his free hand into Dean's grasp and together, they dragged him onto the unfinished floor.

“Thanks,” Frank said, panting. He coughed, and swallowed hard. “I lost him. He just disappeared.”

“Dude, your hand,” Dean said, his eyes going wide.

Frank flopped back, and held out his arm, shaking. The rope had bitten into it, leaving the skin red and bleeding.

“That's- Hold still.” Dean grasped Frank's arm at his uninjured elbow and carefully unwound the rope, heeding Frank's sharp breaths of pain when he moved too quickly. “Where the hell is your jacket?” Dean asked. The mesh would have protected his arm at least a bit.

“I used it to get up here,” Frank said through clenched teeth. “You're fast. Do you race in your spare time or something?”

Dean actually laughed, sitting there with Frank's blood slipping through his fingers and their quarry vanished. He laughed. “No, just used to a whole lotta ugly following us,” he said. “Let's get you cleaned up.”

Dean flashed his badge to get them off the property without further questions, though the foreman glared at them like he wanted to encase their feet in concrete. When they reached his baby, Dean hefted open the trunk and Frank's eyes went wide.

“There is no way you have a permit for all those,” he said. “And definitely not that AK.”

“We're getting rid of the AK,” Dean said truthfully. “It's useless on a hunt. We just picked it up on our last adventure.”

“Right.”

Dean straightened, hauling his first aid kit from under a bag of salt. Mini-hospital was more like. Frank held his bleeding arm close to his chest as Dean pulled out antiseptic wipes and a long roll of gauze. He carried the bandages with him as he directed Frank to the side of the car. He opened the door and pushed Frank down onto the seat.

“Gimme,” Dean said, gesturing for the arm.

Frank held out his arm and Dean carefully grasped uninjured fingers. The fingers twitched with each swipe of antiseptic, and Frank breathed harshly through the pain. His face was deathly pale in the warm sunlight, and his skin was clammy to the touch. Limb wounds weren't usually life threatening, but they were murder on the psyche. The fine tremor in Frank's limbs signaled shock setting in.

“Hey, Frank, focus. Tell me about your brother.”

“Sorry?”

Dean looked up and met Frank's eyes, narrowed against the pain. “You and the blonde kid. You're brothers?”

“He's twenty seven, not exactly a kid,” Frank said, leaning against Baby's frame. His eyes slipped shut. “He's my younger brother, yes.”

“The FBI let you two work together?” Dean asked, carefully catching blood welling along Frank's arm.

“We kind of have a history,” Frank said. “We've been cracking Dad's cases since we were in high school. With our track record, they suggested we work together.”

“I don't know. If I had to deal with my brother in a professional setting I think I'd end up punching him,” Dean said. He pressed a piece of gauze to a particularly bad gouge and reached for an antibacterial salve.

“He's a good kid,” Frank said. He caught himself when Dean smirked. “Not kid. He's a good guy. He's gotten me out of a lot of tough spots over the years.”

“He older?” Dean asked.

Frank shook his head. “No, no. I'm older. By less than a year. We watch each other's backs. Protect each other.”

“There's nothing like it,” Dean said, agreeing. “I've been watching over Sammy since he was a baby.”

“Sammy is younger?” Frank asked, a smirk on his lips.

Dean scowled.

“Yes. Go on, get the height jokes out. This is your one and only chance because you're injured,” Dean said.

Frank laughed.

“I would never resort to short jokes with someone of your stature, but you do seem to know each other very well,” Frank said.

Dean finished cleaning the wounds and slowly wrapped Frank's arm, layering the bandages to minimize exposure.

“We've had our fights, but he's my brother.” Dean sat back on his heels. Frank flexed his fingers, wincing as skin pulled underneath the bandages. “You don't need stitches, but it's going to take a while to heal.”

“Good thing I'm left handed,” Frank said. “I think the foreman would like to have a word with us.”

“I'd like to have a few words with him,” Dean said. “And why he's letting old dudes on his site without helmets.”

“He let us on his site without helmets,” Frank pointed out as they returned to the hollowed out building.

“He didn't have a choice with us,” Dean said. The foreman stormed over to them, his face red under his bright yellow helmet.

“Just what in hell do you think you're doing?” he said before Dean could open his mouth. “Do you understand how dangerous it is around here? You could lose your god damn head if you're not careful-”

“Sir!” Frank held up his badge, sunlight glinting off the metal before he tucked it away into a pocket. “FBI. We have a few questions for you.”

“Christ, this day could not get any worse.” The foreman rubbed his forehead.

“Excuse me?” Dean stepped forward, narrowing his eyes. “Sorry to rain on your parade, sir, but there are people dying in this town, and your construction site seems to be at the centre of it.”

“You don't have to tell me that,” the man said with a groan. “Someone else just disappeared. Look, the cops have already been through here. What more do you want from me? I'm just trying to get this building finished.”

“Mr Redford,” Dean said, squinting at the man's name badge. “Would you care to explain why there was a nearly blind man running through your site a few moments ago?”

“What?”

“A man, approximately my height, with glasses,” Frank said. “He was dressed in business casual attire. He didn't seem like he belonged here, exactly.”

Redford swore. “I told that asshole to stay away from this place.”

“So you know him?” Dean pressed.

“Yeah, he's one of the professors at the local college,” Redford said, waving absently at the trees behind the site. “I caught him sneaking around here while we were leveling the ground. I told him to leave at least four times that first month. Eventually I called the cops and they gave him a warning. He was freaking the guys out. Never said a word to anyone, just skulked around, muttering to himself and glaring at everyone.”

“Do you know his name?” Frank asked.

“Gerard something or other,” Redford said. “I had enough trouble keeping those fucking kids off the lot, excuse my French.”

“Sounds like you've been having a lot of issues since the building started,” Dean said.

“Yeah, well, not everyone is happy when things change.” Redford sighed. “Look, I'm a simple man. I get handed a job, I do it, I get paid. And I definitely don't get paid enough to deal with this crap. Will you please get to the bottom of this?”

“We're doing our best,” Frank said with a nod. “Thanks for your help. We'll be back if we have any other questions.”

“Check out the Gerard something or other?” Dean asked. Frank nodded.

“Check out the Gerard something or other.”

The college was a small community school, set a little ways outside of town. The centre of the campus was a courtyard surrounded on four sides by lecture halls. Dean stood in the middle of the courtyard with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Where do we start?”

“The woman at the desk said there is a Gerard Milak who teaches Archaic Literature,” Frank said. “She said he fits the description Redford gave us.”

“How's the hand?” Dean asked as they moved towards the building marked 'Fine Arts'.

“Hurts,” Frank said. “Feels like I fell off a building and dangled from a rope.”

“That would be accurate,” Dean said, pushing through the front doors.

The crush of students pressed in on them as they entered the hall. Dean shouldered his way to the directory, Frank at his side. They scanned the board for Milak's office.

“Why is his office the only one in the basement?” Dean asked, finger over Milak's name.

“Maybe the rest of the staff doesn't like him,” Frank said. Dean smirked.

“You do have a mean streak to you,” he said, pleased. Frank smiled at him and they found the stairs.

Dean stopped in front of Milak's door and crouched, bringing the knob eye-level. “Knock, knock,” he muttered, pulling out his lock picks.

Withing moments he had the door open and he let Frank inside. Dean kept one hand on the gun under his jacket as they entered the room, his eyes sweeping the room for a hint of motion. The room was empty of humans.

“Jesus,” Dean breathed. He let his hands fall to his sides. “Does this guy have enough books?”

Frank cautiously stepped around a pile of decrepit, ancient textbooks. There was a desk buried under piles upon piles of wrinkled, dog-eared papers. Pushed up against the wall, it didn't look used. Except as storage for more books. Frowning, Frank picked up one of the books on the top of a precariously balanced pile. He flipped through the first few pages.

“It looks like some sort of ancient mythology,” Frank said. He snapped the book shut and picked up another one. “Old cults worshiping sea gods of some sort. This is a man with the head of an octopus.”

“Cthulhu,” Dean supplied.

“What?” Frank looked up from the book.

“Cthulhu,” Dean repeated. “Giant sea monster with a tentacle face. Creature that causes anxiety and fear in humanity? Where have you been since the 60s?”

“I've never heard of it,” Frank said. “It's not real is it?”

“No more real than werewolves, vampires, and ghosts,” Dean said cryptically. He picked up a book from a pile near his elbow and stared at the cover. “The Necronomicon. This is weird shit.”

“I thought this was more your area of expertise,” Frank said. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

“I've seen weirder shit before,” Dean said. “But never so much of it. No, that's a lie. Bobby has a room like this. He doesn't tend to live or work in it, though-”

Dean cut himself off. Milak stood in the doorway, a handgun trained on him.

“Mr. Milak, we just have a few questions for you-” Frank started.

“Shut up!” Milak snapped. The gun in his hand shook. “I have done nothing! I warned everyone this would happen. Nobody listen to me!”

“What did you tell everyone?” Dean asked, slowly raising his hands in the air, palms out. Breathing slowly, he maintained eye contact with Milak.

“I told them!” Milak said. “Bad things would happen. Very bad things.”

“Bad things are happening,” Dean said. “What do you know? You can help us stop it.”

“Nothing can stop it,” Milak said. “It is the will of the Great Old One.”

“Look, we can help you,” Dean said firmly. “Put the gun down and talk to us.”

Milak's eyes were wide behind his thick glasses. He tipped his chin up, raising the gun sights. Dean swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay still. “There can be no talking. Only death.”

Dean moved before he heard the shot. He jerked, and the bullet skimmed his shoulder before he hit a tower of books and crashed to the ground. “Fuck,” he said harshly, clawing his way upright.

Frank was gone, taken off after Milak. Dean could hear shots in the hall. The building was full of students. They had to get him restrained or someone was gonna get hurt.

Dean pushed out of the books and staggered to his feet. He took off after the sound of pounding footsteps. Bolting into the fire stairwell after them, he took the stairs two at a time. Bursting out the ground floor door he slammed into Frank's back.

They both stumbled, and Dean tripped over Frank's legs, going down hard. He landed on Frank and flung out his arm to stop further motion. Frank groaned and Dean slid off him to the ground, panting harshly.

“He disappeared again,” Frank said, his voice hoarse.

“Yeah. He's short. Probably blend in with the kids,” Dean said.

“No.” Frank pushed himself upright on his good arm. “He literally disappeared. He was there one minute and gone the next. I almost had him.”

“That's weird.” Dean sat up as well, brushing dirt off his elbows and shoulders. “Definitely weird. We need to look into that. Disappearing guys... Not good...”

Frank gave Dean a hand up and they glared at the passing students until they were left alone. Frank fingered the bandages around his arm.

“What now?” Dean asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“What do you know about Cthulhu?” Frank asked.

“Lovecraftian horror story,” Dean said, winking at a girl passing them. She glared at him and continued on. “A creation myth for the world's emotions. They say a city sleeps under the ocean with the giant monster, god thing. I don't know what it has to do with a small town in the ass end of Pennsylvania.”

“We have to find out, before more people disappear,” Frank said.

“Does this dude have a house?” Dean asked.

“He does indeed.” Frank held up an envelope between two fingers. “Paycheck.”

“You devious bastard,” Dean said, respect in his voice. “Did you steal that?”

“Appropriated,” Frank said, stuffing the envelope into his pocket. “Shall we?”

Dean folded his arms over his chest. “I think I underestimated you.”

“Most people do,” Frank said, leading the way to the car.

Dean parked his baby outside an ordinary looking apartment building. Frank stood beside the car, squinting into the fading sunlight. “Looks normal enough.”

Dean grunted and led the way into the building. They piggybacked into the building after one of the other tenants, and made their way to Milak's door. Frank tried the door and found it unlocked. Dean rested one hand on his handgun, and saw Frank settle his palm on his.

“FBI. We're coming in,” Frank called, nudging the door open with his foot.

The apartment was in much disarray as the office was. Stacks and stacks of books littered the floor, impeding their progress through the apartment.

“Jesus. Does this guy have enough books?” Dean asked, carefully stepping around a leaning tower. “They're all about the occult. This guy has a serious predilection for bad news.”

“That was a pretty big word, you didn't hurt yourself, did you?” Frank asked, stepping into one of the rooms off the entranceway.

“Hah, hah,” Dean said. “You almost have a sense of humour. Who would have guessed?”

He followed Frank into the second room, instinctively dropping into formation behind the agent. Together, they cleared all the rooms in the apartment. Milak wasn't there.

“Now what?” Dean asked, holstering his weapon. “I'd hazard a guess that he doesn't have any friends we can question.”

“We investigate a bit while he's out. There might be something here,” Frank said. He nodded to what appeared to be a hastily thrown together office room. “Like that giant board of newspaper clippings.”

Dean glanced into the room and snorted. “That is not suspicious at all.”

A cork board hung on one wall, splashed with recent articles concerning the disappearances of the victims. Under the board sat a desk, exploding with papers and still more textbooks on archaic occult mythos. Frank and Dean entered the room, and Dean approached the board.

“He has all the releases about finding the bodies,” Dean said, peering at the newspapers. “There isn't really anything about before they turned up, though. Nothing stalkerish.”

“It's like he only cares about what's happening, not who it's happening to,” Frank said slowly. “Besides the avalanche of books waiting to happen, he doesn't seem to have any other obsessive behaviours. He hasn't fixated on one particular victim.”

“He really hates the construction site,” Dean said. He carefully nudged a book off of a recent press release about the excavated site. It was covered in red ink and furious scribbles, a pen pressed so hard that it tore through the paper in some places. “Oh look, here's his restraining order.”

“He should frame it before he loses it,” Frank said absently, still staring at the cork board. “I don't understand. He has to be connected somehow. There has to be something here.”

“Isn't anything we find useless anyway?” Dean said. “You didn't get a warrant.”

The front door opened with a creak.

Dean cursed under his breath, reaching for his gun. Frank grabbed his arm and tugged him across the ocean of books to a small closet. Before Dean could protest, Frank opened the door and dragged them both inside. The door shut with a solid click, and Dean held his breath.

Not a second after they were ensconced, Milak entered the room. Dean recognised his wheezing breaths, slightly asthmatic in nature, as he crossed the room to stand at the desk. Dean closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing without noise. Frank pressed against his back, a warm, solid bulk of sheer muscle. Frank shifted, lifting his arms to lean against the front of the closet. Well. One arm. Dean realised the arm he had used to pull them into the closet was still clamped around the front of his chest.

“I hope to god that's your phone,” Dean sub-vocalised.

“Shut up,” Frank said back, just as quietly. His arm tightened slightly over Dean's chest, just enough that Dean felt it with every intake of breath. They were so close Dean felt Frank's muscles shift when he inhaled.

Milak spent some time shuffling papers around on his desk, the creak and moan of old wood loud in the silence. They heard the sound of tacks moving on the cork and tearing paper. A pile of books crashed to the floor, and Dean jumped. Frank grabbed him closer, and now Dean could feel Frank's thundering heartbeat, drumming against his back.

Finally, they heard Milak leave the room. Dean exhaled, slumping as the tension seemed to dissolve from his limbs. Frank let his forehead fall onto Dean's shoulder with a soft chuckle.

“That was close.”

Dean carefully pushed open the closet door and looked around the room. The newspapers on the board had been rearranged, and more added. He moved towards the corkboard as Frank crept towards the door.

“Dean, let's go,” Frank said.

The newest additions to the board included an article about the current disappearance, and a map of the construction site with a red circle drawn in pen over it. Dean stared at it.

“Dean!”

Dean turned and slipped out of the room with Frank. Milak was nowhere to be seen, and Dean's heart sped up at the thought he was heading back for the construction site. Dean took the stairs down two at a time. “He's going back to the construction site. We have to head him off. He's going to do something to the missing girl.”

“How do you know?” Frank asked, keeping pace with him easily.

“I just know,” Dean said. “Something is going down at the site tonight. Call your brother, we might need back up. I'm driving.”

Dean broke a few laws on the way to the site, which Frank said nothing about from his seat riding shotgun. The sky was dark over them, stars peeking through a thin blanket of clouds. He parked Baby just outside the site and they leaped out of the car.

Dean reached for his gun but Frank's hand closed over his wrist.

“If he has the girl with him, it's best not to risk it,” Frank said.

“You don't know what's out there,” Dean said sharply. “I'm not going in unarmed. We still don't know what kind of monster we're dealing with.”

“There might not be a monster,” Frank said. “It could be just regular people. Keep it holstered until I tell you.”

“No,” Dean said, drawing the handgun. “Stay wide open if you want, but this stays with me.”

Frank shook his head but fell in behind Dean as he moved towards the empty site. The workers had gone home for the night, but the gate to the site swung open, the chain cut with heavy duty bolt cutters. They slipped through the gate and made their way around the fencing. Dean remembered the red circle on the pinned map, and led Frank towards it.

The ground started to take on a different texture the closer Dean got to the place marked on the map. It was soggy and thicker, almost the consistency of mud but not quite. Dean's fine shoes sank into the muck and he cursed himself once again for leaving his boots in the room.

“Did you feel that?” Frank's terse question brought him to a complete halt. The ground vibrated slightly beneath their feet, and Dean lifted one foot, glancing down in surprise.

He looked up in time to see the ground open under Frank.


	4. Chapter 4

The dirt split around them, and Dean jerked back in time to avoid being sucked into the collapse. Frank fell without a sound, disappearing as Dean tripped onto his ass in his haste to back up.

“Frank!” Dean rolled onto his stomach and army crawled to the lip of the hole, peering over.

The sparse lighting revealed a pocket in the earth, several yards down. A decent fall even for a grown man. Dean fumbled for the pocket flashlight he kept strapped to his car keys and when he got it lit, he had to swallow hard to keep his lunch down.

Slime was the only way to describe what he was seeing. Some sort of mucusy, disgusting glop pooled at the bottom of the hole in the earth, and Frank lay face down in it, unmoving.

And sinking.

Dean swore loudly and colourfully, clipping his gun back into its holster. He ran towards the unfinished building, grabbing up a coil of work rope. He looped one end around a strong support pillar and slid back to the edge of the hole with the rest of it. It barely stretched the length, and when he dropped it into the collapsed earth there was not enough to reach the pool.

“Going to have to do,” Dean said, ditching his shoes at the edge of the hole. He heard the sound of wheels on gravel as he grasped the rope and started to lower himself into the hole.

The stench was unreal. Body odor mixed with soggy, mold-ridden pretzel and the men's locker room. Dean gagged, gritting his teeth against his rebellious stomach. Letting go of the rope was an effort, and the skin-crawling urge to climb back up when he hit the slop was overwhelming.

He immediately sank up to his knees in it, and the feeling of cold, slippery muck sliding up his shins was enough to make him cry out briefly. He trudged forward, stretching for Frank's disappearing body. It was like fighting quicksand. The further he moved in it, the deeper he sank, and by the time he was able to loop an arm around Frank he was in it up to his waist.

“Come on. Frank.” Dean grunted, trying to turn him over to get his face clear. Frank was dead weight in his arms, and Dean could just make out a stream of dark bleeding from his hairline. “Frank. Wake up.”

Grabbing onto Frank was like attaching himself to a weight. He felt like he was sinking quicker now, the muck sliding around under his clothes like cheap drugstore skin lotion. He could barely keep hold of Frank, let alone get them both clear of the slime.

“Dean!”

Dean looked up sharply. Sam's giant head hung over the edge of the hole. “He's unconscious and I'm sinking fast,” Dean said. “A little help here, Sammy.”

Sam disappeared for a moment, and Dean heard voices over him. Sam's gangly limbs reappeared in the next moment, shimmying down the rope.

“Sam, don't come all the way,” Dean said. The muck had swallowed him to his shoulders. He tipped his head back, straining. “You'll get sucked in.”

“Come on, Dean.” Sam hung onto the rope with one hand and reached for Dean with his other. “Give me your hand.”

“I can't-” Dean gasped. The slightest motion seemed to send him deeper. He couldn't feel ground under his feet anymore and Frank had been under for so long-

“Dean!” Sam stretched, his hand shaking with the force of his reach. “Come on, man. Just give me your hand!”

Dean sucked in a sharp breath and twisted his shoulder. The motion forced him deeper, the slime pulling at his hair and ears. He could barely hear Sam yelling at him. He managed to free his arm as slime puckered up over his face. He determinedly held his breath, flailing out with his hand. He passed Sam's fingers a few times before his brother grabbed his hand in a crushing hold.

The pull on his arm was enough to pop his shoulder from his socket, but Sam managed to get his face free of the surface. Dean gasped, blinking furiously to clear his vision of slime. Sam dragged him closer, and Dean gritted his teeth as his brother's nails cut into his skin.

Sam got an arm under his, and Dean was finally able to pull Frank clear. Dean grabbed hard to Sam's shoulders, slipping on gross rock and dirt.

“Hang on, Sam! I'm pulling you up!” Joe's voice called to them from above.

Sam jerked under him, and Dean spat out slime as they were dragged upwards. He barely held his stomach down at the taste. Rocks and dirt rained down on them. Dean felt Sam shake against him from exertion when they finally crested the top of the hole.

Joe immediately reached for Frank, fisting his hand in the man's shirt to drag him onto solid ground. Sam and Dean helped each other the rest of the way. Pulling himself to his hands and knees, Dean looked up to see Joe administering chest compressions.

Dean scrambled to Frank's body, digging two fingers into the pulse point at his throat. He couldn't feel the faintest hint of a heartbeat.

“He's not breathing,” Joe said harshly between firm thumps on Frank's chest.

“You have to push harder,” Dean said, tipping Frank's head back. “Go deeper.”

“I'm not gonna break his fucking ribs.” Joe snarled, not meeting Dean's eyes. Dean crawled around Frank's head, shoving Joe out of the way.

“Then move.” Dean got to his knees over Frank's chest, locked his arms, and pressed down.

Sam threw his arm around Joe's chest when Frank's ribs cracked. Holding the younger Hardy firmly, Sam dragged them back, giving Dean room. Dean pumped hard on Frank's chest, ignoring the feel of broken bones shifting under his palms. “Come on you son of a bitch,” Dean hissed, shoulders straining with his effort. “Come on. You have a case to finish.”

“You're gonna kill him!” Joe shouted, clawing at Sam's arm.

“He's already dead,” Dean shot back. “And if you don't shut the hell up he's gonna stay dead!”

He leaned over Frank's head, tipping his head back. Pulling Frank's mouth open, he sealed his mouth over Frank's and exhaled hard. He could feel the resistance of the slop in Frank's lungs, and sat back, winded. He inhaled twice before leaning over Frank again, forcing air into his lungs.

Dean reached for Frank's chest again, and when he pressed down Frank lurched suddenly. Joe cried out, and Frank choked, his body nearly arching off the dirt. Flipping him over, Dean held his head steady as Frank vomited onto the packed earth. Shaking violently, Frank gasped for air, coughing and gagging.

“Calm down,” Dean said quietly, hauling Frank into his lap to get him upright and breathing easier. Frank shivered, grabbing for Dean's arms. “Calm down. You can't hyperventilate now.”

Dean held him firm, trying to squelch the sickening feeling of glop slicking his skin where he clutched Frank. Sam released Joe, and the kid threw himself at his brother. Delirious, Frank let himself be taken into the embrace, fingers slipping along Joe's shirt.

Dean kept a tight hold on Frank, wiping his lips and face to get the slime off. Sam handed him a towel with an uneasy smile.

“We should get you two cleaned up,” Sam said. “You reek.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, grunting as Sam helped him to his feet. He kept a firm grip on Frank, who didn't seem inclined to let him go anytime soon. “We're taking their car.”

Dean and Joe got Frank loaded into the back seat of Joe's car, and Dean collapsed beside him. He lost the bit of time they were on the road, and the next thing he knew Sam was shaking him awake to get him out of the car. They were stopped in front of the Hardy's hotel.

Sliding from the backseat, Dean needed Sam's help to remain upright. Joe walked with Frank slightly behind them. Once in the hotel room, Dean shook Sam off.

“You two need to get back to the site and look at that hole,” he said. “With the construction, it might be gone tomorrow. We have to find out what it is.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Sam asked. “You're really pale.”

“I just need a good shower,” Dean said. He nodded at Joe. “Make sure he's sitting up. I'll be quick.”

A hot shower had never felt so good. The goo forced him to literally peel off every layer of clothing he wore, down to his skivvies, and he really didn't want to think about the slime hanging around near his junk. 'Quick' turned into nearly half an hour of soaping and scraping with the thin hotel wash cloth. His skin was flushed red raw by the time he got out. Before they left, Joe set out a pair of pajama bottoms for him to borrow. He stepped into them, feeling like he had just taken a haymaker to the face and then some.

“Are you okay to shower on your own?” Dean asked, coming out of the steaming bathroom.

Frank nodded from where he sat, and pushed himself to his feet without a word. He trudged into the bathroom and the door shut. Reclining on the bed, Dean let his eyes slip shut and he listened to the sounds of water flowing in the bathroom, sloughing off Frank's body in the shower. Listening for the sounds of something going wrong.

“Hey.”

Dean's eyes snapped open and he jerked into a sitting position. Frank was out of the shower, leaning against the bathroom doorway with the towel draped around his waist. He stood as if the doorframe was the only thing keeping him upright, and his fist was too loose clutching the towel. Water still dripped from his hair, small droplets rolling down his throat and across broad shoulders.

“I can't- Can you hand me some pants,” Frank asked, his voice hoarse.

Dean jumped up from the bed and put himself at Frank's side, gingerly tucking an arm around his waist to help him to one of the beds. Frank sat carefully, hissing as the pressure increased on his ribs. Dean crouched in front of him, unable to draw his eyes from Frank's chest, or still the heat growing in his gut.

“Damn,” Dean said. “You muss up good.”

Frank gave him a weak grin, tossing a curl of damp hair out of his eyes. “Pants?”

“We should get your ribs taped up first,” Dean said. He swallowed hard. “But we have to get your dry before we do that. Can you move?”

Frank shook his head slowly. “What happened?”

Dean reached up to cup Frank's face, turning his hairline to the light. There was a small scrape there, nothing that needed tending, that was the cause of the bleeding in the cave-in. Frank weathered the inspection demurely, so quietly Dean worried about a concussion.

“What day is it?” Dean asked, standing to grab some Ace bandages from their kit.

“Thursday. I don't have a concussion,” Frank said. “What happened?”

“The ground caved in and you fell,” Dean said. “There was a pool of slime under the cave in, and you fell into it. It was like quicksand. Sam and Joe got us out.”

“Us?” Frank repeated, narrowing his eyes. “You fell too?”

“No.” Dean stared at him, uncomprehending. “I went in to get you.”

He tugged the bandages free of his first aid kit and unwrapped them. After he laid them out he leaned into the bathroom to grab a fresh towel and returned to kneel in front of Frank. Who was staring at him unnervingly.

“Why?” Frank asked, shifting as Dean started gentling the towel over his chest and arms.

“Why what?”

“Why did you come after me? We don't know each other,” Frank said. “You could have died.”

“It's kind of the family business,” Dean said with a shrug. He tossed the towel onto the bed and grasped the bandages. “Saving people. Killing things. I didn't even think about it, honestly. The rope was too short so I just jumped.”

“You're extraordinary.” Frank exhaled on the word, lending it a sort of sensuality that sent a shiver down Dean's spine. Dean settled his concentration on wrapping Frank's ribs, but when he taped the final wrap in place he accidentally looked up and met Frank's eyes.

Dean found himself noticing everything in Frank's face. The strong, sloping curve of his jawline, the deep, warm brown of his eyes... Dean held his breath, his fingers lingering on Frank's hips when Frank's fingers ghosted along his jaw. Leaning unconsciously into the touch, Dean let his eyes slip closed.

The press of fingertips against his lips surprised him, but not as much as the gentle brush of Frank's lips that followed. Dean let out a soft breath, his fingers tightening slightly on Frank's hips. “You keep going like that and I might have to tear your clothes off, pretty boy.”

“Three steps ahead of you,” came the answer. Frank cupped Dean's jaw and dragged him close, sliding one hand through Dean's hair as their lips met, fiercer and more determined. Dean arched against him, and Frank's fingers twisted in his hair, tugging just short of painful to force Dean's head into a better angle. Frank panted harshly against Dean's mouth, warm breaths huffing out, sending sparks of heat along Dean's spine with each touch. “How are you real?”

“I should be asking the same thing,” Dean said, twisting free of Frank's hand to get better leverage. He sealed his mouth over Frank's, eliciting a delicious breath of surprise, and carefully nudged him backwards onto the mattress. Dean crawled up over him, holding himself on his hands and knees as he bit and kissed his way along the strong line of Frank's jaw.

Both of Frank's huge palms pressed to Dean's stomach, burning heat through the very core of him. He wanted those hands on him. He wanted them pressing into his flesh and holding. Frank tipped his head back, exposing his vulnerable throat to Dean, and Dean couldn't help the soft grunt of sheer need that escaped his throat.

“It's been a while since I've-”

“Me too.”

Dean dipped his head into the curve of Frank's throat, drawing a bit of skin between his teeth. Frank huffed out an impatient breath, his fingers digging into Dean's ribs. Dean's hand slid, skimming Frank's flank and drawing his leg up around him. Freezing at the hiss of pain Frank let out, Dean pushed himself up.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Hurts,” Frank said with a wince. His pallor was underlined by the hot flush dusting the tops of his cheeks, and his lips pressed into a fine line. “Damn it. Did you break my ribs?”

“You're welcome,” Dean said, nudging Frank's jaw up with his lips. “We'll flip. It'll be easier for you-”

No sooner were the words out then Dean found himself on his back, Frank straddling his waist. The towel was practically gone, and Dean could see almost every perfect inch of flesh. Oh god. He was waxing poetic about a fuck. He forced the thought away and rolled his hips against Frank's ass, driving friction.

Frank leaned over him, caging him with his arms as he took Dean's mouth enthusiastically. Surging against him, Dean ran his hand over Frank's back, feeling every bunch and flex of hard-earned muscle beneath his palm. He pulled Frank closer, chests bumping and slipping as they moved.

“Pants.” Frank gasped.

“Counterproductive,” Dean managed.

“ _Your_ pants, dumb ass.” Frank's hand found the elastic of his borrowed sleepwear.

“Jesus.” Dean lifted his hips and Frank worked the worn flannel off, far enough Dean could kick the trousers over the edge of the bed. As soon as the thin barrier of cloth was gone, Frank sank against Dean fully. Heat flooded Dean's body at every point of contact, and he dug his fingers into Frank's back, not caring if he left bruises. He had to get closer.

The towel rubbed between them and Dean tugged at it in frustration. Frank huffed a laugh over his throat and shifted just enough that Dean could pull the towel free. He tossed it over the bed and clutched at Frank, trying to get them closer. Their pricks bumped, and fire lit along Dean's spine. He rolled his hips, trying to regain the sensation as quickly as humanly possible.

Frank pressed into his hips, locking their bodies together with a rolling thrust. Gasping, Dean answered by digging his fingers into Frank's thighs. The motion dragged heat along the entire length of his spine, his cock trapped between their bellies. The noises coming from Frank's throat spurred him, the heat suffusing every inch of his body.

Frank slipped in his rocking, and his cock pressed against the curves of Dean's ass, sending roiling waves of heat directly to Dean's groin. He arched, giving Frank leverage and the resulting drag and slide of slick skin was worth spreading his legs.

“I need- Damn it, Dean-” Frank cut himself off. Dean felt him start to shake over him, propped up on his arms. He ran his hands along Frank's arms, trying to massage comfort into them.

“Easy, easy,” Dean said, his voice soft. Frank's breath caught in his chest, and Dean pressed his palms to Frank's hiccuping diaphragm. “Calm down.”

“It hurt so much,” Frank said, hissing against Dean's skin. Dean dragged his fingers along Frank's skin, grounding him in the pressure. “I couldn't breathe- I couldn't see-”

Dean pulled Frank's head down, tangling his fingers in Frank's damp hair. He cut Frank off, sealing their mouths together in a fierce, biting kiss. Frank surged against him, hot skin sliding against skin as he moved, drawing Dean's legs around him. Bracketing him, surrounding him and grounding him.

“Come on,” Dean said, voice rough with want. “Come on. Do it.”

Frank tucked his head into Dean's shoulder and inhaled sharply. Two fingers caressed his rim and Dean all but lurched off the bed. Frank hissed, the jerking unsettling his ribs, and Dean tugged an earlobe between his teeth in apology.

“We need- Some sort of-” Frank growled in frustration, lifting his head to look around.

“Bag,” Dean said, throwing his arm in the general direction of his duffel.

Frank crawled over Dean and rummaged through the bag while Dean concentrated on not blowing his load between the intense warmth of their bellies. The next thing he knew, two slick fingers were nudging at his entrance, and he rolled his pelvis into them encouragingly.

By the time Dean was stretched open, he was practically writhing. His arms were thrown up over his head, grasping desperately at the bedsheets and pillows. Frank cocked one of his legs over his shoulders, bending him nearly in half as he fumbled with a condom.

“Damn it,” Dean hissed. “You're going to kill me, here. Get in me.”

Frank snorted out something that was like a chuckle, and finally managed to slide the rubber over his length. Dean closed his eyes and gripped the sheets hard at the first press of Frank's head into his entrance. The stretch burned at first, the slide aided by the lube, and when Frank was fully seated Dean let out his breath harshly.

“Okay?”

“Damn it, if you don't move I will do unspeakable things to your car,” Dean said through short gasps for breath. His hips jerked of their own volition, and Frank fisted one hand in the bedsheets for leverage.

“Unspeakable, huh?” Frank murmured over him, drawing his hips back to push forward again, filling Dean thoroughly from the inside, pushing heat through his body. Dean felt like he was pushing at the seams of his skin. If Frank moved the slightest inch he would fly apart and possibly have to be cleaned up-

Frank shifted, his cock head brushing against that sweet spot and stars flew across Dean's eyes. He gasped, pushing his hips into Frank.

“There it is.” A barely heard whisper over the thundering of Dean's pulse. Frank thrust again, hitting it dead on, and Dean's breath left him in a hoarse grunt.

Frank snapped his hips once, twice, three more times and hit Dean's prostate squarely with each warm slide. Dean came, slipping along both their stomachs as Frank kept rocking into him, shoving his shoulders into the mattress. Cursing, Dean gripped Frank's thighs hard, rolling his hips as Frank shuddered into him, completely sheathed, and choked on a small noise when he came.

“Jesus,” Dean said to the ceiling. Frank withdrew on trembling arms and fell to his side. Dean carefully arranged them so he wasn't laying on his ribs, and dragged the blanket over them both. “You okay? You're shaking.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Frank said breathlessly. “It's... It's been a while-”

“Crap. I thought you meant with a dude,” Dean said.

“My fiancée left me at the alter a few years back,” Frank said, pressing his face into the pillow. Dean let his fingers drift over a broad shoulder. “I haven't dated since.”

“Wow. Bitch.”

One eye opened, glaring at him and despite the intense warmth between them, Dean felt a chill. “I'll thank you not to speak of my exes,” Frank said.

Dean nodded, pressing his lips together. “Sorry.”

The tense silence prevailed until Frank reached across the distance and brushed his knuckles over Dean's ribs. Dean took it as acceptance of his apology and rolled into Frank's warmth. Frank pillowed his head on Dean's arm, breathtakingly intimate for their relationship. Dean remembered pounding on his chest, the cold, slack feel of his lips, and unresponsive limbs, and pulled him closer. Just by a bit.

He could chalk it up to his protective instincts. He could.


	5. Chapter 5

He woke to the sound of the door latch clicking.

“Frank, you up? I need to borrow your- _Jesus Christ_!”

Dean and Frank shot upright, each trying to grab for the sheets. Frank ended up snatching them first, and Dean lost his grip when Joe hauled him bodily from the mattress.

“Joe!”

“Whoa, hold on!” Sam threw himself into the scuffle, grabbing for Joe. He wasn't quick enough to stop Joe's fist from smashing into Dean's jaw.

Dean took the hit and went down hard, just barely restraining himself from breaking the kid's kneecaps in retaliation. He had a perfect shot until Sam stepped between them.

“Can I put some fucking pants on before you kill me?” Dean asked, scrambling for the bed to pull himself up. “Jesus. We weren't doing anything.” At the moment.

“What the fuck are you doing with my brother?” Joe pushed against Sam's chest, trying to get past him. Sam would make a good bouncer. He didn't hold Joe back as much as prevent him from passing. Frank was pulling up Dean's discarded pants as he rounded the bed.

“Calm down, Joe,” Frank said, putting a firm hand against his brother's chest. “It's all right.”

“Did he hurt you?” Joe asked, and Dean felt an unwanted flare of sympathy. If he had walked in on Sam fucking another dude he probably would have had the same reaction. He couldn't blame the kid, really.

“No. Now cool your heels,” Frank said. “Let us get dressed and we'll go over what you two found, okay?”

Joe hissed his displeasure but couldn't argue. He stepped back from Sam and settled on the bed, glaring death at Dean. Dean ignored him as best he could, catching the pair of trousers Sam tossed at him. He also didn't look at Sam. The disappointment there was too visible.

After shimmying into the pants he brushed his teeth in the bathroom next to Frank. If their elbows brushed more than absolutely necessary, or if Frank stood much too close, neither of them mentioned it. They settled around the small hotel room table and glared at each other.

“The slime in the cave-in matched what we found in Rick's yard,” Sam said, breaking the silence wide open. Dean folded his arms over his chest. “Whatever made the hole was involved in the bodies ending up at Rick's. We didn't find anything else of interest.”

“So we have a connection between the drop site and the construction site,” Frank said. “That's good. That's more than the local cops have been able to get.”

“It also means it's not human,” Sam said, holding up the evidence bag of slime. “There are elements in here that I've never seen before.”

“What, like manufactured?” Frank asked.

“No. Like, not on the periodic table,” Sam said. “It's organic, but it's base element is silicon.”

“English, Sammy.” Dean groaned.

“Dean, I don't think it's from this planet,” Sam said. “Our base element is carbon, which is great for living on Earth. But an organism with a base element of silicon requires much more energy to stay alive. There's no way it would survive on our planet. We're too far away from the sun.”

“You're saying it's an alien?” Dean asked. “You are so full of shit Sammy-”

“The scientist in the lab confirmed it,” Joe said, cutting him off. “He'd never seen anything like it. He sent a copy of the results to a few biochemists he knows. He said he would call us when he heard back from them.”

“It can't be an alien,” Dean said. “Aliens come with UFOs and flickering lights and... probes...” He shuddered.

“I wouldn't think you'd be one to shy away from some probing,” Joe said, his eyes narrowing.

“Fuck you, kid,” Dean growled back.

“Hey.” Frank snarled. “We are all adults here. Let's act like it.”

“That's like asking Dean to sit shotgun,” Sam said under his breath. Their proximity carried the jab, and Dean scowled.

“Bite me,” Dean said, venom gone from his voice. He smirked at Sammy.

“Nope, nope. Definitely not,” Sam said, waving him away. “But we have to look at the possibility that we're dealing with a non-terrestrial.”

“And how, exactly, do we gank a non-terrestrial?” Dean asked. “Especially one who's killed ten people already?”

“We have to find out what it needs,” Sam said. “It can't survive much longer. It's structure isn't suited for our planet, and if it's moving underground there's no way it's getting enough energy to live. It's going to die if we don't find it.”

“You're stuck on this alien thing,” Dean said. “It's not an alien. It can't be an alien.”

“Just like it couldn't be a ghost or a werewolf or a vampire,” Sam shot back. “It's not outside the realm of possibility.”

“All those things happen on Earth,” Dean said. “On. Earth.”

“We need to look at all the angles, and this is more than we've gotten so far,” Frank said. “We'll have to go with this.”

Someone's phone vibrated and Joe reached into his pocket. Flipping it open, he stood. “Joe Hardy.”

He moved away from the table, but everyone fell quiet all the same, trying to listen in on the conversation. Joe kept his voice low, but when he hung up he turned to them. “They found another body. Same as the others. We're requested at the scene. Get your badges, boys.”

The house was crawling with cops when they arrived, and Rick stood on the curb. When he saw them he ran to their car and slammed his hands on the hood. “You've got to do something! You said you were going to solve this! What the fuck are you doing if you're not figuring this shit out!”

“Calm down, sir,” Frank said, carefully getting out of the car. Dean kicked his own door shut and rounded the car to stand at Frank's elbow. “What happened?”

“Same as all the rest. Half-buried, all her skin torn off and blood everywhere-” Rick choked off, bending over the car's fender. He vomited, dropping to his knees.

“Okay, okay, calm down. We're going to get to the bottom of this.” Sam crouched beside him, offering a napkin. Rick wiped his mouth and leaned against the car. Sam glanced up at Dean. “I'll stay here with him. You guys check out the scene.”

Dean led the way. “Sam will get information out of him,” he said on their way through the house.

They pushed the porch door open to the back yard and the instant Dean stepped onto the ground he knew something was different. The grass squelched underfoot (he had remembered to wear his boots this time) and their feet sunk in as they walked.

“Gross,” Joe said behind Dean. “More of that slime crap.”

“I'll be happy if I never deal with it again,” Frank said. He covered his nose and mouth with an arm. Dean didn't blame him. The smell was incredible.

The cops in the yard wore masks and some were dressed in Hazmat suits. Dean had seen a lot of messed up corpses before, but this took the cake. The skin had been completely stripped off the body and massive patches of muscle were missing, as if some sort of acid had dissolved giant chunks of flesh. The body was unrecognisable, but it's size and mass indicated that it might be the recently missing girl.

Dean dragged the neckline of his shirt over his nose and mouth, and the cloth filtered a bit of the smell. Enough that Dean wasn't gagging anymore. He crouched by the body and tried to find anything that would give them a clue as to what did this. The ground was soft under his heels, and seemed to give with the slightest motion. The fact that Frank had a hand fisted in Joe's shirt did not escape his notice. He felt it too.

“Can we get sonar in here?” Dean asked. “Something that will help us see underground?”

“It'll be a few hours before anything like that can be brought in,” the cop next to him said.

“Get it moving,” Dean said, standing. “And I need a map of the area.”

He stood, and a paper map was shoved into his hands by one of the cops. He walked to the porch and stepped out of the soggy grass. Spreading the map over the deck table, he found Rick's house and set his finger on it. “Where's the construction site for the new shopping centre?”

“You mean the one with the Hooters?” One of the cops leaned over the table. Dean nodded, and the cop pointed to a spot on the map displaying a field. “Here. The map's too old to show it, but that's where it is.”

“It's a straight shot from here to the site,” Dean said, drawing a line across the map with his finger. “Can't be more than, what, fifty yards or so? Separated by this forest thing.”

“What are you getting at?” Frank asked, leaning on the table with his good arm.

“There might be something in the forest,” Dean said. “Has anyone looked in it yet?”

“The forest you're talking about is about six trees,” the cop at his elbow said. “There's no secret hide out or murders going on in that thicket.”

“I'd like to take a look anyway,” Dean said, straightening. He folded the map and tucked it into his pocket.

The cop was right. The patch of land did support a cluster of trees, but the cluster was only six or seven trunks thick. Definitley not enough cover to hide a gruesome, flesh-stripping murder spree. Dean wandered around in the trees, trying to force a connection between the construction site and Rick's back yard.

Sam had rejoined them and he circled the outside, where the foresty brush fell away into regular short grass. Frank and Joe were pacing in and out of the trees, their eyes on the ground. There had to be something here. They were missing something...

Dean took a step and his boot squelched sickeningly. He grimaced and lifted his foot. Clear, viscous liquid dripped from the sole of his boot onto the grass. “Gross,” he said. The stench reached him and he covered his nose and mouth with his arm. “Double gross. Guys! Come here.”

“It looks like the stuff in Rick's yard,” Sam said, crouching by Dean's knees. “Smells like the body. Think this is our murder scene?”

“That still doesn't answer the question of how the killer got the bodies over Rick's fence,” Dean said. “I know you're a giant moose and all, but there's no way I could throw a young adult over that fence without leaving some sort of mark.”

“Super human strength? A vampire?” Sam tossed out, scrubbing his hand over his face.

“I have never seen a vamp go batshit crazy and scrape the flesh off a human,” Dean said. “Could be, but what about the mucus?”

“Werewolves are super strong,” Sam suggested.

“Full moon was last week, Sammy,” Dean said. “It doesn't fit the timing. Keep going.”

“I don't know what else could do this, Dean,” Sam said, frustration creeping into his voice. “I've never seen anything like it.”

Dean opened his mouth but movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He jerked up and locked eyes with Gerard Milak standing at the tree line. Milak spun and started to run.

“Not this time.” Dean sprinted after him, pushing through the trees with careless speed. Last time it had been a closed course, full of debris and scattered I-beams. Here was open field and Sammy with his freakishly long legs that were already out-pacing him.

Sam caught up to Milak and dragged him to the ground in a tackle that would have made a linebacker proud. They tumbled to the ground, rolling in a pile of flailing limbs and flying coats. Dean leaped at them, throwing himself on Milak's kicking legs to keep him still.

Frank joined the fray, handcuffs appearing out of nowhere and finally Milak stopped fighting. He was hauled into a sitting position by his collar, and Sam and Dean fell back to let Frank at him.

“Why are you running?” Frank asked. “You seem to be involved in different aspects of this crime. It's time to tell us what you know.”

“I told you already,” Milak said. He shivered in the cuffs, eyes darting back and forth behind his thick glasses. “Bad things. Very bad-”

“Yeah, we get it, oracle of destruction, you warned everyone. Something bad,” Dean said. He fisted a hand in the front of Milak's shirt and twisted. “Get with the specifics. What the fuck is doing this?”

“It doesn't belong here,” Milak said, quaking in Dean's grip. “The construction woke it up. It was to wait for the master's return, but it has woken too early-”

“We're not going to get anything out of him, he's completely out of it,” Joe said with a huff. “At least we can detain him on suspicion of contaminating the site. Maybe Psych will have more success.”

“What woke early?” Dean asked, giving Milak a fierce shake. “What's out there?”

“The Great Old One's pet,” Milak said, the tone of reverence in his voice making Dean's skin crawl. “It must feed. It must survive.”

“Some kind of animal?”

“A creature of nightmares,” Milak said. “Lurking in the darkness, waiting for sustenance and the return of the Great Old One.”

“Okay, now we're getting somewhere,” Dean said.

“You're nuts.” Joe shifted behind them. “He's talking crazy. How is this helping us?”

“Darkness where? A cave? Is it in a cave?” Dean asked. “A basement? Underground?”

“Where the dead cradle it and lend it comfort,” Milak said.

“Okay, so it's underground. In like, a cemetery? Or just underground?”

“Dean,” Sam said hoarsely. Dean glanced up to see him staring at a spot of grass. He followed Sam's gaze and stilled when he saw the ground flexing. “I think he means it's under us.”

Dean dragged Milak to his feet, stumbling under their combined weight. Sam lurched forward to support him and they stumbled away from the trees back to the main road.

A car blasted its horn as it sped past, and Frank grabbed Dean by the collar and yanked him onto the sidewalk. “What the hell is going on here?” Frank asked, panting. He held his side gingerly. “And how did you get so verbose in crazy-talk?”

“You just have to read between the lines,” Dean said, twisting Milak's arms behind his back. “Most of that doom and gloom crap is just poetry for actual places and events. You get good at it when you see it weekly.”

“Dean.” Sam was pale, a tinge of green around his cheeks. “I think it's a giant worm.”

“This isn't fucking Tremors,” Dean snapped before Joe could even open his mouth.

“The trail of mucus stretching from the site to Rick's yard. It's practically a straight line. The minor earthquakes. It has to be underground. Dean, what if it's eating people?” Sam swallowed hard. “The melted muscle- It looked like chemical burns, and-”

“That's really gross, Sammy,” Dean said, cutting him off before he could rolling. “Get the salt.”

“Salt is for slugs, not worms,” Joe pointed out. Dean sighed and did not punch the kid in the face.

“Are there worms in cthuhlu mythology?” Frank asked, cutting through Joe's harsh words. Dean smirked gratefully.

“There are massive gods with tentacles for heads. I'm sure we can find a reference to a worm somewhere.” Dean shoved Milak in front of him. “Either way, the construction site is the source of this. We're going to have to salt it. And this guy is going to tell us how to get rid of it.” He shook Milak.

“Let me guess, we have to take you with us as a translator,” Joe said.

“Look, I'm trying to help you guys, okay?” Dean said with a growl. “I'd appreciate a little respect.”

“Joe.” Frank leaned close to his brother and murmured in his ear, and Joe visibly deflated. He closed blue eyes and pressed his lips into a fine line, stepping slightly behind Frank.

Sam appeared with a bag of salt slung over his shoulder. He held his sawed-off in his other hand. “Ready.”

“Let's go hunting,” Dean said.

Joe and Sam cleared the construction site with their badges, and Dean led Milak towards where the hole had opened under Frank. It hadn't been covered up yet, and in the light of day Dean could see better around the edges. Nudging Milak right up to the rim, he twisted the cuffs tighter.

“What is this?” Dean asked.

“Preparation for the pet's feast,” Milak said.

“A trap, you mean?” Dean said. “To catch people? So that thing will be back soon is what you're saying.”

“Men cannot see the agent of the Great Old One,” Milak said hysterically. He lurched in Dean's hold, trying to twist away. “They cannot know his power!”

“Whatever.” Dean dragged him away from the hole and threw him to the ground. Milak landed hard, laughing manically. Dean grasped his wrists and threaded a zip tie through the cuffs. He latched the cuffs to an I-beam. “Stay.”

Frank hung back from the edge of the hole, staring at it warily. Dean moved to his side. “We're going to have to go back down. I can see a tunnel breaking off from the wall. You good?”

Frank swallowed hard, and Dean fixated on a mark he left bobbing slightly along his throat. Pale, eyes wide, he set his jaw and nodded.

“You don't have to go if you don't want to,” Dean said quietly. “We can wait till Sam gets back and I'll drag his ass with me. It's okay. You almost died, you're having a reasonable reaction-”

“I said I was good,” Frank said tersely. He strode resolutely to the cave-in and looked back at him, waiting.

When Dean reached the edge of the hole, he grasped the rope still hanging down and lowered himself into the darkness. Halfway down the rope, he kicked off the side of the wall. The push delivered him into the tunnel he saw and he scrambled into it on his elbows. The rope swung back against the opposite wall.

“Clear!” Dean called up to Frank.

The man started down, breathing harshly through the pain of his ribs. The sound echoed as he descended, and then kicked off the wall like Dean had. Dean reached for him and tugged him onto the ledge. He trembled under Dean's hand, but pressed forward without saying anything.

Dean lifted a flashlight under the grip of his pistol as he started into the tunnel. The smell was strong, clinging to every rock face and dripping stalactite. Swallowing hard against his gag reflex, Dean swept the tunnel with the beam of the flashlight, looking for movement. Behind him, Frank turned his pistol light on the tunnel ahead. The beam vibrated slightly.

Dean's light flashed across something blocking the way. They crept closer to it, and the smell got worse. The light glinted weirdly off the surface, as if it was wet. Dean got close enough to touch it. He reached out.

“Dean-” Frank ground out.

Ignoring him, Dean ran his fingers over the obstruction. It was slimy, and his hand came away with a string of mucus. “Oh gross,” Dean said before he could stop himself.

The thing moved, and Dean jerked back from it. It slid around in the tunnel and as Dean took another step back. The smell increased, and Frank's hand closed around his elbow.

A slit formed in the thing and widened, splitting the thing in half. The split widened and suddenly Dean's flashlight reflected off a row of razor sharp teeth. Dean dragged in a sharp breath. The teeth grew as the slit widened, the the ground around them trembled slightly. A gap in the teeth formed, and Dean realised it was a massive mouth, spreading the entire length of the obstruction.

The mouth gaped wide, and the next thing Dean knew, he was on his back and his leg was in agony. He cried out, Frank's shouting loud in his ear. The thing clamped down on his leg and _pulled_. Dean bit down hard on a scream as teeth pierced his flesh and shredded it. He kicked hard with the leg that wasn't pinned.

Frank's hands looped under his arms, tugging him away from the thing. He was gonna lose his leg. He lashed out harder, striking the thing with the heel of his boot. “Shit!”

A gun discharged beside his ear and a deafening shriek pierced the air, shaking the tunnel around them. Dean slapped one hand over an ear, the other fisted tight in Frank's sleeve.

In the next instant, his leg was free and Frank was hauling him back through the tunnel. Dragging him.

Suddenly the ground fell away from his feet. He and Frank were airborne briefly and then he slammed into the mucus pool at the bottom of the cave-in. The surface gave, sucking at him.

“Shit. Shit.” Frank's breaths were coming quick and violent. His arm clenched painfully around Dean's stomach, the weight dragged them deeper.

“Frank, calm down,” Dean said, forcing his head around to look at Frank. Frank's legs had collapsed under him and he was half-lying in the muck. “Frank. Frank, look at me.”

Frank met his eyes, so wide Dean could see the whites around them. His flashlight sank into the slime and darkness swallowed them. “Can you reach the rope?” Dean asked.

“I c-can't.” Frank shook his head. Dean swallowed his panic, forcing it deep inside him. They couldn't afford him losing it, not when Frank was close to hyperventilating.

He tried to stretch up, to keep his face clear of the slime but it felt like something was pulling him down. His legs were both sucked under already. If Frank grabbed him any tighter he'd crack a rib.

“You gotta let me go,” Dean said with a wince. “I can barely breathe, dude.”

Frank's arm loosened fractionally and Dean sucked in a massive breath. “Sam! Sammy! Joe! Could use a little help here!”

“Dean! How the hell did you get down there again?” Sam appeared over the edge of the hole.

“Sam, there's something down here! You gotta get us topside,” Dean said, straining to keep his head clear. “Faster would be better!”

“Frank, give me your hand.” Joe rappelled into the hole. He stretched for Frank with one hand.

“Frank, you need to lift your arm,” Dean said, fiercely resisting the urge to shift in the slime. “You're closer. You need to move.”

“I-I can't-” Frank choked himself off. “I'll sink- We're sinking- I can't move-”

“Frank- You have to- I can't reach him-”

“Frank, come on, bro, you've gotta take my hand. I'll get you out, but you have to help me,” Joe said, his voice breaking. “Come on, Frank. I need you to work with me. I won't let you drown.”

“Frank-” Dean cut himself off wit a sharp inhale. He was going under. Twisting his arm in Frank's, he sucked in a deep breath. The muck dragged him under.

It filled his ears and he couldn't hear anything. The slime trembled around him with Frank's motions, his arm tight around Dean's stomach. It suddenly grabbed him closer, to the point he thought his gathered air would be forced from him, and then his head broke the surface.

He coughed, gasping as he was pulled forcefully from the glop, its slimy, disgusting fingers clawing at his clothes, trying to reclaim him. Frank's arm was a vice around his chest, and hands were grabbing at him. He reached blindly for them, and was pulled onto solid ground.

“Dean, Dean!” Sam's hands were on his shoulders, shaking him.

“Sammy! Stop it. Let go.” Dean shoved him back, wiping the sludge off his face. The instant his eyes could open he looked for Frank. He saw him huddled under his brother, leaning over the packed dirt. Dean shouldered past his brother and crawled in front of Frank. He reached between Joe's arms and took Frank's face in both his hands. “You did good,” Dean said breathlessly. “You did good.”

He was still breathing harshly, eyes blown wide in panic. Joe's face was tucked against his shoulder, and Dean pushed a hand through Frank's hair. “Just give me a minute,” Frank said hoarsely. He exhaled with a shudder and leaned heavily into Dean's palms.

“What the actual _fuck_ are you guys doing here?”


	6. Chapter 6

Dean looked up to see the foreman of the site standing over them, a rope twisted around his body in a spotter's hold. Dean pushed himself to his feet. “We need to borrow a bulldozer. You've got something under this site and we have to dig it up.”

“You are going to get off this property or I'll call the fucking cops,” Redford said.

“We _are_ the fucking cops,” Joe snarled. “Give us the keys. We'll do it ourselves.”

“You've got to be kidding me. I'll have you arrested for trespassing. There's been enough going on in this town without people like you screwing around on my site.” The sound of a slide clicking into place forced Dean to still.

“Now hold on, sir,” Sam said from behind him. “Don't do anything you're going to regret.”

“I'm not gonna regret scaring away a bunch of assholes who think they can poke holes in my build job,” Redford said with a growl.

Sam's shout was drowned out by a shotgun blast. Sawed off. Good. Was loaded with salt.

The pellets pierced Dean's chest and he staggered back into Sam with a grunt. His legs gave out and he dropped to the ground, warmth spreading across his chest. Breathing was effort. Hugely unsatisfying effort, and Sam's hands slid on his chest, pressing down hard against leaking wounds.

“Stay with me, Dean.” Frank's hands framed his face, forcing him to look up, to bring Frank's eyes into focus. He hissed against the pain flaring, lacerations exacerbated by the salt and his attempts to breathe.

“Redford-” Dean managed.

“Joe disarmed him. He's in cuffs. You need to stay with me,” Frank said.

“ 'm here, jus' hurts like a _bitch_ ,” Dean swore. He inhaled harshly, fisting a hand on Frank's sleeve. “Stop the bleeding-”

“We've got a compress on it, just lie still,” Frank said.

“Sammy, get the bulldozer,” Dean said through gritted teeth. He grabbed the front of Sam's shirt and yanked him lower. “Get the bulldozer and dig that thing up.”

“Dean, you're-”

“Do it, Sam,” Dean said forcefully. He shoved Sam back, and his brother faltered briefly before nodding. He turned and hauled ass towards one of the diggers.

Frank hooked his hands under Dean's arms and hefted him into his lap. Dean groaned at the jostling, digging his fingers into Frank's arm.

“This is totally gay, dude,” Dean said hoarsely. He could barely feel Frank pressing the compress to his chest through the tingling numbness that was spreading across his body.

“There is nothing we could do that would be more gay than this,” Frank agreed, deadpan. Fingers carded through Dean's hair. “Joe's helping Sam, stay still.”

“I think I'm just going to pass out now,” Dean said. His eyelids dragged shut.

He came to lying in the back seat of a car. Groaning, he struggled onto his elbows. His legs hung over the edge of the seat, out the open car door. Someone had bandaged his chest and leg, and now they were just two throbbing centres of ache. He managed to sit up, and poked his head out of the car.

Frank leaned against the wheel of the car, head tipped back against the rear casing as he slept. Dean nudged him with his good foot. He came awake with a snort, and slammed his head against the car.

“Easy,” Dean said. Blinking, Frank rolled his head towards him. “All right?”

“You're awake,” Frank said needlessly. He pushed to his feet, clinging to the car for support. “Sam and Joe took to the ground but when they cleared the hole the thing was gone. No trace of it.”

“A giant carniverous worm can't just disappear,” Dean said. “Something sank its teeth into me last night, and it wasn't just you.”

Flushing brightly in the morning sun, Frank coughed. “Joe went for a permit to dig up the entire section. Sam's sleeping in your car.”

“What about Redford?” Dean asked, pulling himself out of the car. He stood, barely in Frank's personal space.

“He's sitting in lock up,” Frank said. “As of today, the construction site is officially closed until further notice. My superiors are going to have my badge for this.”

“Sorry,” Dean said, and for once, he actually felt it. Frank wasn't like the normal schmucks that got caught up in these hunts.

“It's fine. At least I'll know a bit more about the world,” Frank said. “And how to protect myself.”

“Hey.” Dean reached for Frank's arm. Let his fingers twist in Frank's sleeve. “If anything happens with your job or whatever, me an' Sammy will show you how to hunt. We won't leave you hanging.”

“Thanks,” Frank said, a smirk lifting his lips. “I think. Want to see the site?”

They picked their way across the constrution site to where Sam had parked the bulldozer. They had increased the size of the cave-in, but there was no sign of the gigantic worm. Just a trail of mucus dripping from the tunnel Dean and Frank had investigated the night before.

“This is one of the grossest hunts I've ever been on,” Dean said solidly. Someone had cleaned most of the muck off him, but he could still feel it clinging in places, sticky and gross. He was pretty sure it was caked in his hair.

“The results of the ground testing came back,” Frank said. “There is a massive tunnel stretching from here to Rick's backyard. Your hunch was right.”

“It's no good if we can't gank the damn thing,” Dean said, crouching at the edge of the hole. “We're going to have to go down there again. Armed this time.”

“In daylight,” Frank said. Dean nodded. “Joe can stay topside and lead the rope. He has climbing experience.”

“Sam can work the bulldozer,” Dean said. “It's you and me again.”

“Funny how that keeps happening,” Frank said. “It's almost like you planned it like that.”

“That would imply I had a plan,” Dean shot back. He stood, shaking out the pins and needles from the injured leg. “Time to go wake Sam.”

Once Joe rejoined them, Dean laid out the plan. Sam stared at him as if he had grown two heads.

“You're injured,” Sam said. “You can drive the bulldozer. I'm going down.”

“Don't start this with me, Sam, we've already got it worked out,” Dean said, grabbing a shotgun from the back of his baby. “Frank and I go down, you two man the fort. We've already been down there, we know what to expect.”

“That's such horseshit, Dean,” Sam said, following close on Dean's heels as they made their way to the edge of the hole.

“Don't really care,” Dean said, bending to grab the rope that was still hanging into the hole. “Stay in touch.”

When Frank and Dean were inside the tunnel once more, Frank clicked his flashlight on. There was no sign of the worm thing in the tunnel as far as the light extended. Dean brought the shotgun to his shoulder and they continued on.

“Do you routinely do this?” Frank asked quietly.

“Do what?”

“Run back into danger after barely escaping,” Frank said. “Doesn't seem to be the smartest of ideas.”

“Nobody ever said I was the brightest crayon in the box,” Dean said. “I just know what I gotta do. And number one on that list is keep Sam safe.”

“Out of the way of massive worm creatures,” Frank said. “I know how you feel.”

“That's why I didn't force the issue of Joe coming instead of you,” Dean said. “No offence, but you had a panic attack the last time you were down here. That doesn't bode well for someone watching my back.”

“I'm good,” Frank said. “It won't happen again. This needs to end.”

“There's something up ahead,” Dean said, slowing. Frank pressed close, the flashlight sweeping across the walls of the tunnel. “It looks like it just slid deeper. There it is.”

He planted his feet and cocked the shotgun.

The blast was deafening in the tunnel. He felt Frank wince behind him, and his own ears rang with the after-shock of the sound. That wasn't as bad as the horrifying scream that followed. The thing in the tunnel writhed in its carved space, and dirt cascaded down around Dean and Frank. Screeching, howling whines of pain assualted them, and Dean took a step back. Frank pulled him another, and when Dean saw the worm rushing them, he turned and ran.

They bolted back through the tunnel, sunlight pouring through the cave-in as a beacon. Dean reached it first, leaping through the air. He slammed into the side of the cave-in and completely missed the rope hanging in front of him. He scratched at the dirt wall as he slid down to the bottom, getting mired in the slime for the third time.

“Fuck everything,” he swore.

“Frank!”

Frank splashed into the muck beside him, dropping the flashlight. The screech was still following them, though, and Dean looked up to see a huge, snake-like creature barrel out of the tunnel.

“Shit. Frank, move!” Dean shoved Frank, trying to push him towards the rope. “Move!”

“ _Frank!_ ”

Dean didn't quite make it out of the way. The worm-creature careened into the cave-in, a squirming, gnashing, violent tube of rancid death. It pinned his legs with crushing force, dragging him deeper into the slime as it moved. The mouth snapped at him, and he jerked the shotgun in front of it to prevent the teeth from clashing against his skull.

A gun discharged near him, lodging two bullets in the worm creature's head-knob. It screeched again, discoloured blood leaking from wounds. Dean pushed hard with his shotgun, trying to force the creature off him, but he was only sent deeper into the muck.

“Frank! Help.” Dean gasped.

“Trying,” Frank said, firing another slug into the monster.

“Not working!” Dean said. He was sunk up to his armpits and rapidly sliding deeper. God almighty if he never saw this shit again it would be too soon.

Joe came out of nowhere, flying into the pit like freaking Tarzan on the rope. He slammed into the monster's head and knocked it away from Dean, just enough that Frank could get his arms around Dean's chest to try and keep him afloat. His momentum carried him back against the wall, and Joe slammed into it with a grunt.

“Will someone please explain to me what the flying fuck is going on here!?” Joe shouted, his hands slipping on the rope.

“Ancient occult monster, allergic to sunlight!” Sam yelled from his perch above them. “I'm going to try something!”

He vanished.

Dean swore as the pressure on his legs grew, grinding all the bones in his legs together. Frank's hands slid against his chest, the slime making it hard to grip. He couldn't grab Frank, though, couldn't drag him down with him. Dean heard Frank scrabbling against the dirt behind them, trying to get a hold to keep them up. Their legs tangled, Frank shoving at the worm's body, nudging it.

“Gonna break my legs.” Dean hissed through gritted teeth as the worm's body shifted slightly.

“Shut up,” Frank said, his voice startingly close to Dean's ear. “I won't let you go.”

Dean's heart skipped, and they didn't have time to go down that particular train of thought, because in that instant the entire pit lit up like Rockfeller Centre in Christmas time. Hot sunlight scorched over Dean's skin and he winced, shying back into Frank's chest as the monster's thrashing escalated.

It howled in pain, and a burning smell filled the air around them. The pressure on his legs increased dramatically, and Dean bit down hard on a scream when his left shin snapped. Frank pulled him close, crushing an agonised groan from his lungs. “Dean! Dean!”

Frank's arms cinched tight, and Dean felt himself being pulled upwards. His legs came free from under the monster and then he was in the air, clutched against Frank's body as they rose. They were deposited onto packed dirt outside the hole, the monster's screaming still ringing in Dean's ears.

“Christ. It's coming through- Dean, hold still-”

White fire flared through his leg and he howled, pushing against the hands at his shoulders. The pain-induced haze flickered back, and his leg throbbed violently. “Jesus, Sam.”

“Had to do it quick, sorry,” Sam said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. His arms flexed as he worked, wrapping his shirt tightly around Dean's shattered leg.

“What did you do?” Dean asked. He was propped up against Frank's chest, splayed out between his legs. He would have felt awkward if he hadn't been in so much pain. Frank's arms felt cool on his inflamed skin.

“Um, I rotated one of the giant steel panels from the site into the hole. The sun bounced off it and scorched the dhole in the cave-in,” Sam said. “They really, really don't like sunlight. It caused a quick reaction on its skin and burned it out.”

Dean turned to see Joe standing at the edge of the cave-in, hands on his hips. Muck dripped off his legs as he stood umoving.

“It's dead,” he said.

“We have to get you to a hospital,” Frank said in Dean's ear. Dean shook his head.

“Hate hospitals,” he said. “Help me up.”

Frank and Sam helped Dean to stand, and Dean pushed Frank away to put his weight on Sam. “We have to go, before your buddies show up.”

“You can't be serious,” Frank said. “You saved this town-”

“Saved the town, destroyed a construction site, broke into a few houses,” Dean said, digging his fingers into Sam's shoulder. “That will make us Suckville's Most Wanted once people find out what happened here.”

“I'll explain what happened, we'll have your names cleared. The people have to know what you did,” Frank said. A lock of slimed hair flopped over his eye. “You can't just leave.”

“This is what we do, Frank,” Dean said. “We're used to it. We don't want the recognition. We don't want to end up in jail, and we don't want the FBI taking away our hunts.”

“So you're just going to leave?” Frank asked, impatiently brushing hair from his eyes.

Sirens sounded in the distance, drawing closer.

“Yeah, that's our cue,” Dean said. He looked away from the flash of hurt in Frank's eyes and tugged at Sammy. “Come on.”

They found Joe standing beside Dean's car, leaning against it waiting for them. Dean limped towards him and waved him away and he shifted to stand beside his brother. He tugged the passanger door open- no way he could drive on his busted leg- and waved at Frank.

“It was, um, good working with you, I guess,” Dean said awkwardly. Frank said nothing, angled slightly towards his brother for support. Joe stared hard at them as they got into their car and drove away from the site. The thing was dead, no more people would disappear. They had done their job. There was nothing more for them here.

...*...

Dean flopped down on the motel bed and groaned. Their most recent hunt had been an entire pack of werewolves and he was completely wiped. Sam trudged to the bathroom without a word.

“You've got red on you,” Dean said hoarsely. He caught Sam flipping the bird before the door shut. The water started and Dean closed his eyes.

His phone buzzed on the duvet beside him. He glanced at the caller ID. _Hardy, F_

Flipping the phone up, he held it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Dean Winchester?”

“Speaking,” Dean said.

“It's, um, it's Frank. From the giant worm hunt-”

“I remember you,” Dean cut him off. “I know who you are.”

“So I was in the area and I was thinking-”

“Did you put a trace on my phone?” Dean sat up sharply.

“I did.” Joe's voice filtered through the other end. “Hope you don't mind.”

“You're an asshole,” Dean said without heat. “How close is 'in the area'? And what did you have in mind?”


End file.
